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looking.
    Your
affectionate brother,
    R.
Walton

We
had a sto'way in the hold
    He
was an eccentric millionaire we were told
    Every
night we'd throw him over the side
    He'd
say 'thanks for the ride'
    And
the crew threw him overboard on the next tide
    Eventually
he died.

LETTER II
     
     
    To Mrs
Saville, England.
    Archangel,
March 18 th , 17-
     
    How
slowly the time passes up here. Up here one hour takes three. Encompassed as I
am by frost, snow and ice, yet I have hired a vessel. It is a very secure ship
with a slight tendency to sink. Just in case, we all sleep in the lifeboats.
    I
have no friend, Margaret; I think this is because I have got halitosis. The men
stand 50 yards away whenever they want to talk to me. I am glowing with the
enthusiasm of success, but there will be none to participate in my joy. Still,
I am wearing a furry hat and every evening I sing 'God Save the Queen' through
the porthole. I know she can't hear me but there's no reason why I shouldn't.
    I
shall commit my thoughts to paper, or the wall or the floor or even the ceiling.
But that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. Talking of medium,
we have one travelling with us in the steerage. He has a mystic power. He can
give us the exact date and day every day. I desire the company of a man who
could sympathise with me and his company must have a good annual turnover. I
bitterly feel the want of a friend. (I have no one near me except the ship's
cat.) Someone who has tastes like my own — chicken madras.
    I
am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on the
common. At the end of that time I fell exhausted to the ground. By the time I
was fifteen I had recovered from my fourteen-year run. At that age I became
acquainted with poets of our own country: Goethe, Adolph Hitler, Goering. Now
one becomes acquainted with more languages than that of my native country. Now
I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of
fifteen. I speak two languages — good and bad.
     
    We have a sailor on board who's
gay
    No one knows what got him that
way
    I asked him what made him one
    'It's...,' he said, 'It's a lot
of fun.'
     
    Well,
I will certainly find no friends on the wide ocean. Every day I scan the seas
for one and I never see one person — perhaps he's inland.
    The
master is a person remarkable in the ship for his gentleness and mild of
discipline. He likes to talk to young sailors with his hand on his hip. I
cannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutality exercised on board
ship. I have never believed it to be necessary to give a man 50 lashes, then
keelhaul him, then hang him from the yard arm, then finally make him walk the
plank or swallow an anchor. Very few sailors survive this ritual.
    I
am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, 'to the land of mist
and snow'; but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my
safety. If you see an albatross, he can be one I did not kill.
    So,
dear sister, continue to write to me by every opportunity and don't forget to
enclose the postal orders.
     
    Your
affectionate brother,
    Robert
Walton

LETTER III
     
     
     
    To
Mrs Saville, England.
    July
7 th , 17-
     
    My
dear Sister,
    I
write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe. My men are bold and
apparently firm of purpose. But the floating sheets of ice that continually
pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing,
appear to dismay them. They all shrink from their posts and huddie together in
fear, many crossing themselves. Why not? They have crossed everybody else.
    My
swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. The doctor says it's a
vascular leak. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister.
     
    R.W.
    P.S.
Please keep sending the postal orders.

LETTER IV
     
     
     
    To
Mrs Saville, England.
    August
5 th , 17-
     
     
    So
strange an accident has happened to us. My seamen groaned. A strange sight
attracted our attention. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and
drawn by dogs, pass on towards the north at the distance of half a mile but
which had the shape of a man, apparently of gigantic stature. He was smoking a
cigarette. He sat in the sledge and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid
progress of the traveller with our telescopes until he was lost among the
distant inequalities of the ice.
    In
the morning I went on deck and found all the sailors busy on one side of the
vessel, apparently